The Star
by Shahrezad1
Summary: “Why are you staring at it, anyway? Do my decorating skills offend you or something?”


**The Star**

By Shahrezad1

Summary: "Why are you staring at it, anyway? Do my decorating skills offend you or something?"

Disclaimer: Happy Christmas! I don't own Hey Arnold or the characters therein, nor those from A Goofy Movie, but I definitely own the copy of season 1 I just received. Much rejoicing! :D

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"_Starlight, Starbright, first star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."_

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Helga had a theory about certain things. Knocks on the door, for example. They were like punches in that they had particular styles and signatures, a proverbial stamp being placed in someone's cheek to signify that _you had been there_. Likewise, the sound of a knock could say a lot about a person. Phoebe's were soft and timid, almost afraid to offend by the scrape of skin on whitewashed paint. Curly's were haphazard and more than a little all over the place, Eugene's uncertain, and Gerald's raucous and noisy. Rhonda's was impatient, but typically went for the doorbell anyway--the better to announce her presence with.

The hands which pressed upon her door were firm but not over hard. They had a quickness to them that indicated some measure of self control, as though through martial arts or some other form of physical activity. Yet while soft they didn't bring the feeling of being a pushover, nor someone likely to push their opinions on others. The sound was firm, solid and…nice.

Immediately her insides melted. And firmly slapping herself across her own face, Helga set aside her obsession for the moment. He was only there for one reason, and to see her wasn't it.

Swinging the entrance open long enough after his first knock, he was in the process of his second try as she suddenly confronted the man she'd loved from her childhood. But she didn't allow any of that to show--the features and emotions that greeted Arnold were those of irritation and carefully reigned anger. Still the golden-haired fool smiled and allowed his mid-knocking fist shift into a little wave of greeting.

"Hi Helga. Roxanne asked me to pick something up."

A present for the girl's ex-boyfriend, Max. He was now dating someone else, but the redhead couldn't help but keep her hopes up, even if it meant being "Just Friends," with the honestly great guy. It was a type of self-torture that Helga could understand. The kid was going to college at a rival University, one several cities over which the visiting Arnold Shortman just happened to also attend, explaining the two ex-enemies' current situation.

"Come on in, Paste-For-Brains. Let me grab it for you," mild irritation skipped its way across his features but was smoothed over by Christmas Cheer. In answer he silently followed her lead, kicking off the snow that had attached itself to his scuffed boots before sitting down on their threadbare couch. It was a relic they'd inherited from a past roommie.

By the time she'd returned his expression of affability had somehow shifted into something else, and rather than facing her with green eyes half-lidded they were furrowed. Dodging a glance at the tree he was staring at, Helga tried to figure what was upsetting him so much but couldn't figure it out. The fake evergreen was as it ever had been, the rejected classic of her parents which had long-since been replaced with a gleaming white, guest-impressing edifice which nearly brushed their ceiling.

To the blonde the newer tree was an eyesore of plastic and fiber-optics, and she had rescued the icon of her youth gladly. Thereafter liberally covering it head to toe in blue and white lights, chipped red beads, and ornaments ranging from glass statuettes to dollar-store trinkets, as well as the odd wooden hand-me-down. A few feathers and paper cranes even hovered on off-bent branches of emerald green, the candy canes a must-have contributed by her roommate. Altogether, it was a beautiful, if simple, tree and Helga didn't see anything wrong with it. So what was with the frown?

"Yo. Football Head. Stop lasering my tree with your lousy eyeballs, will ya?"

This seemed to startle him out of his lethargy and apologetically he shrugged and moved to stand. But not before she'd corned him with a question.

"Why are you staring at it, anyway? Do my decorating skills offend you or something?"

"No, that's not it," opening his mouth only to close it, it took him shaking his head and touching his fingers to his forehead before he could speak. Finally looking her dead in the eyes, "um. You guys don't have a star. Or an angel, for that matter."

"Yeah? So?"

"It just…doesn't feel like Christmas without it."

Tossing an idle glance at the room's centerpiece, she had to admit that in some odd way he was right. The topmost section had been looking a tad bereft but she hadn't made the connection as to why until he'd said anything. Still, it was mere days before Christmas and there really wasn't anything to be done at this point. So she shrugged.

"Roxanne wants an Angel, but I think they're too flashy. And I want a Star but the ones we've found have all been cheap and don't commemorate the season. So we made a deal that if I found my star first we'd have a star, and if she found her angel first we'd have an angel. Neither of us have discovered one, Hair Boy."

Enlightened, the young man said no more. Merely nodding and giving his farewells as he made his way into the cold night air. It wasn't until days later that Helga stared up at their evergreen's top and discovered a sudden change.

A star, hanging mere inches from the tallest point of the tree. It neither glimmered nor shone, nor even looked like a star at first, but instead a white disk held together by ribbons the color of sea foam. It wasn't even until several minutes of staring that she realized it was a Sand Dollar, and attached to its ribbon was a tag.

_The Legend of the Sand Dollar_, it read, and mystified Helga continued on.

_There's a lovely little legend that I would like to tell, _

_Of the birth of and death of Jesus found in this lovely shell._

_If you examine closely you'll see that you find here,_

_Four nail holes and a fifth one, made by Roman spear._

_On one side the Easter Lily, in the center is the star,_

_That appeared unto the shepherds and led them from afar._

_The Christmas poinsettia etched on the other side,_

_Reminds us of His birthday, our happy Christmastide._

_Now break the center open, and here you will release,_

_The five white doves awaiting, to spread goodwill and peace._

_This simple little symbol, Christ left for you and me,_

_To help us spread His gospel through all eternity._

Tears wet with emotion she hadn't even noticed choking her up, the cynical girl set aside her pessimism for a time and decided that perhaps that was the best gift she'd received. Not that she'd tell _him_ that. But somehow she thought he would know anyway.

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AN:

Not sure if I like the flow of this one, nor how it dropped off. Especially as in this situation I was the one that put together the sand dollar star, but somehow it ended up being in Helga's point of view for some reason. The story behind the story is that when I was seventeen or eighteen we received some sand dollars with this quote. Originally we received two of the sand dollars apiece, just so that we really could snap them in half in order to prove that the "doves" really did come out of them. And they did, which was cool. It's due to part of the sand dollar's skeleton when it dries out, for some reason. I just happened to have one left in its Christmas packaging, and it was the day before Christmas Eve (same day as the breadstick incident).

So even though it doesn't flow, this really happened and it was cool when it did.


End file.
